Rise Of The Reaper
by Aspen-SiredBySpike
Summary: Thirteen teenagers make a bet surrounding the old farmhouse at the edge of town. Whoever can stay within the land boundaries the longest gets whatever, or whoever, they want. The catch: It's supposedly haunted.
1. Prologue

**_Very Important A/N:_** This is the prologue for my new fic. I have no idea how frequent the updates will be considering I'm working on other fics as well, but just stay tuned. A few warnings: Yes, there will be character death. Yes, this is a parody of every single slasher film ever written, but it probably won't come across as funny. No one is together in the begining except for Angela and Ben. More to come as time progresses. Also, there will be some shocking siblings/pairings. Don't hurt me. Each chapter, a character (or more) will die, having broken a classic slashler flick cliche or rule. Can you guess who the killer is before it's too late? All human. AU. OOC. Rated M for explicit language, violence, character death, and some sexual situations.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.**

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**Prologue**

Whipping his cell phone out of his pocket, he punched some numbers and waited.

"911, what's your emergency?"

His voice was hysterical as a stream of fresh tears rolled down his face.

"They're dead! They're all dead!" He howled into the phone, pressing it tightly against the side of his blood-streaked face.

"Who's dead?"

"My friends! We never should have come out here. I just knew it…"

"What happened, sir? What's your location?" The operator prodded.

"The old Harrington farmhouse. I can't believe they're dead!" He continued to rant, doubling over in pain.

Why was there never anyone around when you needed them and thousands of people snooping around when they weren't wanted?

"Sir, you need to tell me what happened so I can dispatch a unit. An ambulance and the police will be on their way shortly."

Giving one last shriek, Jasper yelled into the receiver "They were murdered!"


	2. The Bet

**Dedications: This chapter is dedicated to the Metallicar, my favorite vechicle on night-time television. I am borrowing you from W-squared for now, because you're incredibly sexy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. Nor do I own the Metallicar. It's just a really nice model.**

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**The Bet**

The sound of an engine roared as the old BMW made its way across the badly tended field. Long stalks of grass lapped at the tires, half-dead leaves getting caught in the rusted rims. The bodies of mosquitoes spattered the grill, their blood and guts being forced to fetor in the end-of-day heat. The scent of fuel hung acrid in the air as the trickling from the gas tank left a rainbow trail across the ground. Just at the edge of town, past the fields and lake and silos, stood a lone farm- the destination for this evening.

_"But it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night; I can see paradise by the dashboard light…"_

"Look, there they are," The tiny girl said, stopping her humming-along-with-the-radio tirade as the ten desolate figures came into view.

Speeding up, the driver gunned forward, causing her wheels to spin up dust. They were the last to arrive. Late, but fashionably late. Might as well make an entrance.

"Woo-hoo!" The little one screamed, winding down her window so the sounds of the radio flowed out.

_"Ain't no doubt about it we were doubly blessed; 'cause we were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed…"_

No more humming. She was full out singing along.

"Shut it, Alice. You sound like a cat being murdered." The other passenger, a girl lounging across the back-seat, scolded playfully.

"Bella, unless you have something good do say, shut your mouth, and bend over because bad girls deserve to be spanked." Alice replied, adding a humorous "Yee-haw!"

"Alice!" Bella shrieked, covering her eyes with embarrassment. "Stop!"

"Stop? Stop what? You were the one who spent all of my party last Friday necking Edward on the couch!"

"Don't mention his name!"

"I bet he'll be here tonight, Bells. No way will that jackass Emmett show up without his best fuck buddy." Rosalie snorted.

"And what a good fuck buddy he is. Trust me Bella, I _know_." Alice said, locking their eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Give it up, you guys! For one, I was piss-ass drunk at your party, Alice."

"Thanks to a little spiking of the punch, curtsey of moi," Rosalie preened.

"And for another, he would never think of me like _that_…"

"Oh please, Bella. You're a genuine hottie." Alice crowed.

"But-"

"Ok girls, this argument will have to be picked up later, 'cause we're here and I need to concentrate on getting me some new wheels." Rosalie interrupted, shutting off the engine.

"Yeah, because god knows this piece of crap isn't going to hold out much longer," Alice said, slamming her door, watching carefully that it didn't fall off the hinges.

"Ah, so the bitch has arrived." Eric grinned, spreading his arms wide. "And look who she brought along! Pixie Pussy and Sexy Swan!"

"How about a little paradise by my dashboard light, Hale?" Mike jested, causing Lauren to slap him.

"Do you even own a car?" Alice sneered, keeping Bella tight at her side.

Eric and Tyler, who were just off to Mike's side, broke out in laughter.

"Please, like she'd ever screw you." Emmett rolled his eyes, leaning against the door of his jeep.

"And you think you have a better shot?" Jessica giggled. "I'm sure Rosalie likes her men with bowling balls, not ping-pong balls."

"Then again, some of us aren't easy as sheep." Rosalie scowled, taking a once-over of Jessica's micro mini skirt and barely there crop top.

"Well at least I'm not a prude." Jessica snapped, glaring at Bella.

At this, Edward, who was longing against Emmett's car, smirked easily and winked at Bella, causing her to blush.

"Why you little-" Rosalie lunged forward, raising her hand to strike. Bella, Alice, and Angela, who was nearby with her boyfriend, Ben, grabbed onto the blonde, restraining her.

"Look, are here to fight or to play the game?" Jasper, who was still straddling his Ducati, helmet resting on the handlebars, asked, wanting to get started.

"He's right." Edward said, strolling over to Jasper's side. "The sooner we get on with things, the sooner I can claim my prize."

"Your prize? Who says you're going to win?" Rosalie chuckled.

"What, you think you actually stand a chance?" Emmett defended, staring hard at her. "Just out of curiosity, who is your prize going to be?"

Edward, along with everyone else, decided not to get involved. Hale versus McCarty could get violent. Possibly even bloody.

"It's not the who, but the what. And what I want when I win this thing is the pretty little Impala that I know for a fact is sitting in your garage, gathering dust." Rosalie rattled off, smirking at the look on Emmett's face. "I'll paint it black, of course."

"Black? That's ridiculous! You'll ruin it!" Emmett screamed, outraged not only by the fact that she wanted his pride and joy, but that she was going to mess up the original paint job.

"Please, McCarty. Candy apple red on a '67? That screams fag wagon." Titters broke out from the group as Emmet's face flushed.

"Fine. But the only way you can get my car, is if you win; which you won't." He growled, ignoring the grinning eyes of his so-called friends.

"Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?" Alice asked, leaning against the hood of the BMW, arms folded across her chest. "You think you've got this bet in the bag, don't you?"

"Damn straight. And when I win, I'm going to have a piece of that smoking hot body." He said, leering at Rosalie's too tight jeans and t-shirt covered chest. "But of course, when that happens, you won't be wearing anything with a picture of Cheap Trick on it. Do you want me to want you, Rose?"

"In your dreams."

Emmett was just about to make a comeback, when someone stuck a piece of paper in his face.

"What the fuck is this?" Emmett grabbed the paper, examining it. "_Don't answer the phone if it rings. Don't investigate any creepy sounds. Always look behind the door. Sleep is not an option._"

"What, is Freddy Kruger on the loose or something?" Rosalie scoffed.

"And what about this one?" Eric laughed, pointing about halfway down the page. "_If you hear cha-cha-cha ha-ha-ha, run._"

"Sounds like Jason's back form the dead." Edward joked.

"Who made these?" Emmett scoffed, looking at the page, titled _Rules For Survival_.

"My stupid brother," Alice exclaimed, crinkling her copy up into a ball, and chucking it at Jasper's head. "You know you're a film geek when…"

"Hey! These could come in handy. We could be smart, unlike those people in the movies-" Jasper began, but was cut off by Lauren.

"Doesn't the black guy always die first?" She said, looking around. "That means you, Tyler."

"Then it's always the slut." He said, coughing to cover Jessica's name.

"And of course the hot and horny couple." Ben grinned, "Mike and Lauren."

"Don't forget the virgin always lives." Edward stated. "Guess that means you're safe, Swan."

"Lucky bitch." Jessica said under her breath.

"And then there's always the-"

"Guys! It's not like we have to worry about leather face hacking us up or anything! This place has been abandoned for years. As for no answering the phone, who's going to call an empty house with no power?" Mike said, cutting off the pointless conversation.

There were shrugs of agreement.

"Okay, so this is how it's going to go," He continued, ripping up his copy of the 'rules'. "The boundaries of the property include the house, barn, cornfield, backyard, and most likely a few acres of the forest out back. The cars are out of bounds, so if anyone is bringing anything with them, I suggest you take it now." He glanced around, enjoying the fact that they were all hanging on to his every word. "Whoever can stay on the property the longest is the winner; getting his-"

"Or her…" Lauren added.

"-pick of whatever or whoever they want. We'll meet up again here, tomorrow at sunset, to dole out the prize. As soon as we cross the fence, the game begins."

"Are teams allowed?" Angela questioned, glancing over at Ben, who was pulling a duffle bag out of his trunk.

"Doesn't matter, but there's only one prize. So if anyone decides to team up, remember that." Tyler shrugged, loading a fresh set of batteries into the end of his flashlight.

"What's in the bag, Cheney? A body?" Eric joked, watching as Ben slung the huge black bag over his shoulder.

"Just being prepared." Ben replied, holding tight to the strap with one hand, and encasing Angela's hand in the other.

The sound of slamming car doors echoed through the air as everyone dug out their flashlights and cell phones, locking their vehicles up for the night.

"Alright… Everyone ready?" Tyler said, hopping to sit on the fence.

Following his lead, a few of the guys jumped the wooden struts, opening the gate form the inside for the girls.

"Gentlemen…" Lauren smiled, making her way through.

The crisp grass crunched under their feet as they made their way across the lawn, up towards the house. Like a pack of coyotes, hungry for the kill.

"You coming?" Edward asked, lingering by the gate, his hand outstretched.

Bella blinked, looking away from the paint-peeled gables and rickety front porch to meet his eyes. Placing her hand hesitantly in his, she muttered "Yeah. Let's get this over with."

Closing the gate behind her, Edward took the lead as they left the safety of the cars and treaded across the land of the old Harrington farmhouse.

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**A/N:** I know this chapter is short, but it's just to get in the swing of things. The fun starts in the next chapter. Once agian, I don't know when it will be. Thanks for all the interest in the prologue!


	3. Legend Has It

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.**

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**Legend Has It**

"Oh yeah! This is what I'm talking about!" Mike exclaimed, taking a running jump for the deep red sofa.

"Ouch!"

"What, you seriously thought a couch over sixty years old was going to be comfortable?" Jasper chuckled, taking a seat on the matching loveseat. His face scrunched up. "Wow, this _is_ uncomfortable."

"Nice living room," Rosalie complimented, coming in from the hallway. "The décor screams _Phantom of the Opera_, and not in the sexy Gerard Butler kind of way."

"No more Scream Channel for you, Rose." Bella said, following her in with Edward trailing silently behind her.

"Dude, this is one freaky painting." Mike said, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

"Agreed." Bella said, taking a seat by Mike.

The painting above the mantle was a sit down family portrait. The man was sitting in a big wingback chair, surrounded by a woman, two young girls, and an older boy holding a baby. They all wore stern expressions and black attire; not one of them, with the exception of the baby, looked at all friendly.

"Note to self, if I come across a cushy looking blue chair, don't sit in it." Mike muttered, studying the painting.

"Old man Harrington sure looks like a creeper." Rosalie shivered, taking the last seat available- by Jasper.

"It's not him you have to worry about," He said, scooting down to make more room. "It's the wife."

"Why?" Bella asked, studying the woman's downcast eyes and ghastly expression.

"You haven't heard the legend?" Edward said, quirking an eyebrow, running his hand along the mantle, collecting dust. "Apparently back in the '40s, Charlotte Harrington took her husband's shotgun and blew her kids' brains out. When she was done with them, she did the same to her husband. Realizing what she had done, she went out to the barn and jumped off the hayloft, successfully breaking her own neck."

"That, of course, left the baby in the nursery all alone." Mike chimed.

"What happened to the baby?" Rosalie asked.

"Supposedly the next morning some sort of animal got into the house. Ate it alive."

"Disgusting, I know." Jasper grimaced, seeing the repulsed looks on the girls' faces.

"But why did Mrs. Harrington shoot her family in the first place?" Bella wondered aloud, not once taking her eyes off the woman's cryptic face.

"There are a few different versions of that." Edward continued. "One claims that she was seriously ill, plague or something, and didn't want to die alone. Taking her family with her would provide her pleasure and a purpose in the afterlife. Another says that she went mad with a fever. And then there is always…"

"The possession theory." The boys chorused.

"Don't tell me you believe in that shit." Rosalie groaned.

"Just hear me out," Jasper said, leaning forward. "The Harrington murders weren't the only bloodcurdling thing to happen on this land."

Bella steeled herself for the next tale. She was not agent Scully. She could not handle this. The only reason she decided to go along with this whole thing in the first place was because she was drug into it by Rosalie and Alice. By no means would she be brave enough to do this on her own. Hell, she didn't think she'd last as long as she did, and they hadn't entered the house more than twenty minutes ago.

Ignoring the goosebumps rising on her flesh, she snuggled into her hoodie and burrowed down deeper in her seat, arms wrapped tightly around her, as she peeled her ears for the heinous details.

"In the late 1890's, there was another family who lived here: The Davenport's." Jasper recalled. "Now, people say that the night after they moved in, the house burned to the ground, killing the Davenports and their eight year old daughter. The property was empty until Mortimer Harrington bought it in the '30s. He rebuilt the house, but it was on cursed land. So who's to say that one of the Davenport spirits didn't possess Mrs. Harrington and force her to murder her family?"

"You guys really do believe in ghosts!" Rosalie cried out, pounding her fist against the hard cushion. "Ahh! Damn it! That stung!" She cradled her reddened hand.

"I think the possession theory is a decent one," Mike stated, "But what I don't get is why leave the baby alive?"

"Who knows?" Edward said, finally setting, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa closest to Bella.

"I thought possession what something that needed a motive. Why would the Davenport spirits possess Mrs. Harrington?" Bella ventured.

"That's an easy one." Mike answered. "The Harrington's built over their graves. When you're burnt to a crisp, there isn't much of a body left to bury. Who's to say that n one even bothered with a proper burial? For all we know, good old Mortimer might have rebuilt the house over their ashes. I mean, if someone did that to me, I'd be out for revenge."

"So, you guys truly think this place is haunted?" Bella asked, glancing from one person to another.

"You know me Bells, I don't believe in ghosts." Rosalie grinned.

"No." Edward shook his head.

"It's possible, but not probable." Jasper shrugged.

"Hey, you said that one of the stories had Mrs. Harrington hang herself in the barn, right Cullen?" Mike checked.

"Yeah, so?"

"So, isn't that where Tyler said he was headed?"

"Maybe he'll run into Charlotte and get invited to tea." Rosalie giggled girlishly.

"Or maybe-"

_Clunk!_

"Ben! What the hell is in that bag of yours?" Mike demanded as Ben bent over, out of breath from carrying the huge duffle that sat at his feet, in the doorway.

"Dude, did you slaughter Angela and stuff her in there or what?" Edward said, eyeing the bag. "I mean, I know an old abandoned farmhouse is the perfect place to stow a body, but could you do it after we leave? I don't want to be put away for being accused of accessory to murder."

Ben rolled his eyes sarcastically. "For your information, Angela is with Alice. They said they were going to explore the backyard a bit before resigning themselves to the house for the night."

"Outside doesn't sound like such a bad idea right now," Jasper muttered to himself. Then, louder, he announced "I think I'll head out for cigarette and some fresh air. Does anyone else find it hot in here?"

Bella looked down at her heavy hoodie. She was freezing.

"Fresh air and a cigarette? What an oxymoron…" Ben scoffed, heaving the bag back onto his shoulder before walking out of sight.

"I'll go. I'm cramped from this damn thing." Rosalie complained, kicking the love seat. "I could use a walk to stretch out."

"Nah, I'm good." Mike said, getting up as well. "I think I'll hunt around in here a little more. Maybe stalk around and scare the shit out of someone. Preferably Emmett."

"Good luck with that," Edward called at his retreating back. Once, Rosalie and Jasper were out the door, he glanced down to look at Bella, who was pointedly avoiding his eyes.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me."

As if she was in a trance, Bella snapped back to reality, looked around confused, then locked eyes with Edward. He grinned widely.

Jumping up like a bat out of hell, she rushed out of the room screaming, "Rosalie! Jasper! I'm coming with you! Wait for me!"

Edward just chuckled, falling back to recline on the couch.

***

"Do you think aliens did it?" Rosalie asked out of thin air.

"What the hell are you talking about, Rose?" Bella inquired, walking a few steps behind the blonde.

"This maze of course!" Rosalie exclaimed. "I mean, we all knew that the cornfield was here, but how it is possible that it's a maze?"

"Well, you see Hale, when farmers cut their crops they-"

"Cram it, Jasper. I know _how_ they're made. But what I don't get is how it is here. As in right now."

When he glanced back over his shoulder, she decided to elaborate. "You said it yourself that this place was abandoned for over sixty years! By all rights, this corn should be dead. There's no one to tend to it, harvest it, or even plant it for that matter. That being said, who would be here to turn it into a maze?"

The trio was silent for a few moments before Bella piped up, "So that's why you think it is aliens?"

"Duh."

"Alien crop circles? Maybe. Alien corn mazes? What the fuck, Hale?" Jasper snickered.

"Hey, at least I have a theory! Isn't that right, Bella?"

Silence.

"Bella?" Rosalie spun around, only to find her friend missing.

Jasper, having halted when he heard Rosalie stop following him, turned and said "She's probably just playing a joke. Any minute now she'll pop out in front of us, and we'll scream like banshees to appease her."

"Bella's not the type to joke, Jasper; let alone for a scary prank like this. Besides, she didn't even want to come out here in the first place. Your sister and I, we forced her to compete in the bet." Rosalie replied, her voice unsteady.

"Then I'm sure she just got lost in the stalks."

"You don't think…"

"What? That the spirit of a dead field mouse got her?" Jasper joked. "I'm sure she's fine. We'll find her."

"Well, if you're sure," Rosalie mumbled, turning around to find Jasper gone as well.

"Jasper?" She called. "Whitlock, this so isn't funny."

No response, not even the rustling of leaves- his footsteps silent.

"Probably gone off to find Bella." She said to herself, retracing her steps.

The sound of something akin to a wolf howled in the distance.

She gulped. "I hope."

***

Patrolling with a pitchfork: it was the last thing Tyler Crowley thought he would be doing when he agreed to come out here.

The barn was rickety and just a little spooky, giving way to the perfect place to start out the night. Not to mention the house was so full of people at this point, it would be claustrophobic. He was pretty sure Angela and Alice followed his example by not going inside right away, having thought he saw them heading towards the forest; and then he heard the guffawing voices of Eric and Emmett, probably out to cause a little trouble.

Oh well. They were none of his concern. After all, his goal was to stay on the land the longest, and the easiest way to do that would be with no distractions, also known as 'no people around'.

He couldn't wait. In just a few short hours, he would be the last one standing, and tomorrow at sundown, he would claim his prize: Isabella Swan. Not only would fucking her brains out be reward enough, but the fact that she was the daughter of the chief of police was an added bonus. Then, of course, there was her virginity. Experienced girls were fun and all, but a virgin, so tight and insecure and wet… He could already imagine just how great it would feel to be inside her hot-

"_Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor."_

"What in the…" Tyler said, looking around at the empty stalls for the source of the chanting voice.

"Come on out, Emmett. I know it's you!" Tyler called out, scanning his eyes over every inch of the barn. Too bad there wasn't more light. A thorough check would take a lot more than the last of the sunlight flooding through the cracks in the wood.

_Thunk!_

The hay loft! Throwing his head back, Tyler spun in a circle, examining the darkened corners of the second tier.

"McCarty, I know you're up there so you might as well just come out. The jig is u- Ahh!"

The black cat landed on the floor by his feet, purring and circling his legs.

"Damn animal," He muttered as he tossed the pitchfork to the side. Bending down to pick up the cat, he smiled. It was a cute little thing. "How did you get in he-"

It dropped down form the hayloft, tightening around his neck. Hands flying up, he tied to pry it away from his throat. A noose.

"You seriously thought that hiding out here would help your odds of winning?" A deep voice chuckled.

Tyler choked down his response. The key was to not speak. To stay completely still so the noose wouldn't tighten any more than it had already. Too bad it did him no good.

With one swift tug, his feet dangled about three feet off the ground, his head lolled to one side. No more struggling, no more fighting, no more tears.

He was done for.

The sound of his boots made a loud _thunk_ as he landed a few feet away from the body. Bending down to pick up the cat, who was not alarmed enough by the struggle to run away in the middle of his bath, he grinned.

Cradling the animal in his arms, he stalked away, muttering "Let the games begin."

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**A/N:** So it begins.I'm trying to make this fic fun, as well as unsettling, not outright frightening. I'm hoping I'm meeting my goal. This is going to be my last update for a few days, as I won't be around this weekend. So hopefully, you'll be left in suspense.


	4. Jeepers Creepers

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.**

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**Jeepers Creepers**

"Brilliant job with the howling, man. That ought to scare those bitches and Mr. Thinks-he-knows-it-all." Emmett grinned, watching the exit to the corn maze from the safety of his hiding spot- a big boulder concealed by an over-grown bush.

"Thanks," Eric said, glancing around the leaves. "That's the only thing I took away from those cheap-ass Harry Potter movies."

"What's taking them so long?" Emmett groaned, peaking over the rock. "They should have been out by now…"

Earlier on, when he first arrived, Emmett knew the house would be over-run with everyone scoping out the rooms and looking for a suitable place to avoid being bothered by one another. To him, that seemed like the world's stupidest idea. If you want to seclude yourself, why follow the pack? That's why he drug Eric with him outside, gaining some primetime to scope out the boundaries. The first place they hit was the cornfield, which much to their surprise wasn't a field at all, but a maze. Not that it had been hard to navigate, but it caused one awfully close call for him. Just as he and Eric thought they made it out, the sound of voices came from their right.

"Do you think aliens did it?" Hale. He could recognize that voice anywhere.

"What the hell are you talking about, Rose?" And that was Swan. It had to be.

"This maze of course! I mean, we all knew that the cornfield was here, but how it is possible that it's a maze?" Rosalie again. So Emmett wasn't the only one surprised by the inner workings of the field.

"Well, you see Hale, when farmers cut their crops they-"

"Cram it, Jasper. I know _how_ they're made. But what I don't get is how it is here. As in right now."

Whitlock. Just what he needed. Mr. High and Mighty. Who did he think he was, handing out those retarded rules on how to survive? Survive what? It's not like there was some mass murderer on the loose or anything. Jason, Freddy, and Michael weren't real. That shit only happens in the movies. The only thing any of them had to worry about was perhaps a cobweb or two.

"Hey," Eric whispered, squinting his eyes at the stalks. "Is that Jasper or am I hearing things?"

"Unfortunately." Emmett grimaced. "And he's got Bella and Rosalie with him."

"Afraid he may be moving in on your girl, McCarty?" Eric wiggled his eyebrows.

"Like he's a threat." He scoffed, grabbing a hold of his friend's shirt. "Come on, I have a plan."

A plan, which after the laborious task of finding their way out of the maze, brought them to where they were now, hidden behind the rock, waiting for any sign of life.

"Dude, do you think they're lost?" Eric said, standing up to get a better view of the entrance.

"Man, you're going to blow our cover!" Emmett hissed, yanking Eric back down. How were they supposed to creep up on their victim's if his parent in crime gave away their position? Stealth was needed to kidnap them. Tact was vital if he was to sneak up on them and forcibly take them out of the game. Eric, however, didn't see it that way.

"Let go of me!" He stood up once more. "They're not coming. Do you think there's another way out?"

"We circled the entire thing before going in. I'm sure this is the only way, unless they cut through the stalks."

"Which is unlikely, meaning-"

"They're still in there." Emmett cut him off, grinning like a madman. "If we can't get them on the outside, we'll take them down from the inside. Let's go get them."

***

_Thunk!_

"Well, this looks like as good of a place as any." Ben muttered, taking a moment to catch his breath. After his brief run in with the group in the living room, he had headed straight for the stairs. Once on the second floor, he took his time scouting out the place.

The first room he came across was a sort of toy room. Creepy porcelain dolls covered every free surface, each painted face more terrifying than the last. A rocking horse sat in one corner, its straw-like mane dust covered and scraggly. Children's books and oversized clothes- presumably for dress up- were scattered across the faded floor, hiding the majority of scratched in the hardwood. It was a ghastly sight, the assortment of memories from a too-short childhood, and definitely not the space he was looking for. He needed privacy, he needed seclusion; a place where he could get to work. How would he be able to concentrate while being watched by hundreds of glass eyes?

Moving on, he peeked in the next room. It was a tiny space, containing three single beds. The children's' room. Two of the beds were covered in moth-eaten lace comforters, while the last held a simple red cotton sheet set; the brother's. Too bad this room would give him the creeps.

He passed a library, nursery, what appeared to be the master bedroom, and a bathroom, before coming to a guest bedroom. The only adornments were a double bed done up primly in light blue that stood against one wall, and an antique armoire, sitting directly across from it. There was no night table, no coat rack, nothing. It was basically empty.

Perfect.

Letting the bag drop to the floor, Ben just stood a moment. After all, carrying close to fifty pounds around for about fifteen minutes was tiring.

Bending down to unzip the duffle, he turned the bag upside down, releasing its contents on the floor.

A few boxes of salt tumbled out; followed by a cell phone, matches, a good dozen tapered candles and a few bigger ones- all white, a lighter, satellite phone, walkie talkies, night vision goggles, a few tattered novels, and some very shiny, very important technological looking gadgets.

Wasting no time, he picked up a box of salt, opened the tab, and poured a line of the crystalline white powder across the door to the room. Satisfied, he crossed the room and copied the movement to the windowsill. Tossing a wary glance at the armoire, he did the same to it.

Better safe than sorry. Who knew what sort of monsters lurked behind its dark stained doors?

Tossing aside the empty box, he picked up a machine that looked vaguely like the walkie talkies. A set of six lights adorned the top, ranging in color from red to green. The only light glowing was the first green one, which stayed constant as he made his way around the room

"What made the junk drawer queasy enough to vomit?"

Ben looked up from the EMF reader to see Alice and Angela standing in the doorway.

"Seriously dude, what is all of this stuff?" Alice asked, bending over to pick up shiny silver gadget. "Is this a GPS machine?"

"You never know when you'll need to-" Ben started.

"Oh Jesus. It's waterproof." Alice said, looking at the instruction sticker on the back. "You're an even bigger geek than my brother."

"In reality, I think-" He was, once again, cut off.

"You brought garlic and a rosary?" Angela crinkled her nose, looking through the gigantic pile of stuff. "Sweetie, I think the Harrington's are spirits, not vampires."

"Actually Angela, I don't even think they're spirits." Alice grinned, and then added "More like worm food."

"Alice, that's gross!" Angela shrieked.

"Ooh! You brought water!" Alice squealed, diving for the bottle. "Thank god, I'm parched."

"No Alice! Don't!" Ben's protests were too late. Alice was already downing the bottle.

Sighing, Ben mumbled "There goes my holy water."

***

"Well, would you look at that. Looks like someone's been acing slut school. Who's your idol this week, Jessica? Jenna Jameson? Briana Banks?" Edward said, leaning against the door to the bathroom.

Jessica, who was primping in the less than clean mirror, threw him a glare. "For your information Cullen, it's Silvia Saint, who just so happens to have class. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"Class?" He scoffed. "I don't see how flaunting a pair of silicone breasts in a less than modest shirt is classy. No matter which way you spin it, Jessica, they're all still porn stars."

"Let me guess, the preppy Edward Cullen is too much of a prude to jack off to porn?" She pouted her lips, applying a fresh coat of gloss.

"I don't need porn when I have the real thing." He replied, letting a lazy smile eclipse his face. "And where the hell were you keeping that chap-stick?"

Locking eyes with him in the mirror, she grinned, stuffing the tube back down her bra. "And for the record, it is lip _gloss_. Chap stick is for losers who suck at making out."

"Evidently." Edward grimaced.

"But I'm sure you have no problem in that department. Don't think I didn't see you and Swan hitting second base at the Alice's party." Jessica giggled, spinning around to lean against the counter. "I'm sure that Mr. and Mrs. Brandon would love to know that you made the little virgin cum in her granny panties on their antique love seat while they sexing it up in Seattle. You must be talented to make her scream that loud without even getting in her pants. I've heard from a few different girls that you have one hell of a dirty mouth on you."

"Leave Bella out of this." Edward growled, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry Cullen. Is she a sore spot? Upset because she won't give in fully to your advances? Not used to rejection?"

"Shut up."

"Forget about her, Edward. I know there are a lot of girls lining up to get with you. Why waste your time on the one who couldn't give a damn?"

"And go after someone like you?" Edward snorted. "I think not."

Smirking, she grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up to reveal a lacy pink bra, about two cup sizes too small.

"Like what you see, Edward?"

Snorting, Edward said "Not everyone likes pointy tits, Stanley. Learn that." Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.

Jessica, abashed that he didn't ogle her chest like the rest of the male population, scowled, before ripping her shirt over hr head. Unclasping her bra, she let it fall to the floor, her breasts hanging loose.

"Doesn't know what he's missing," She muttered, turning back to the mirror, admiring her nearly naked form. She poked and prodded, squeezed and tugged, admiring her pride and joy from every angle. Her chest had gotten her more attention than anything else, and she took great pride in keeping it looking fabulous.

"They're perky, not pointy," She grumbled.

"_Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor."_

Jessica froze, listening to the chanting. Probably just one of the guys playing a joke…

Just then, a shadow flashed in the mirror. "Ah, I knew you'd come back Edward, they always do…" She grinned shimmying for the mirror, hoping he was just off to the side so he could get a double view.

"Sluts are among the greatest sinners of all, Stanley. There is no place in this world for Stacey Valentine acolytes." The voice was deep, yet velvety smooth as if discussing something as simple as the day's weather.

A glint of silver just caught the mirror's reflection.

Was that a-

"Ahhh!" Jessica cried out, crippling to her knees.

_Stab!_

She hacked and coughed, blood spraying out in front of her.

_Slash!_

There was a gurgling sound as she slumped sideways, her mouth lolling open, her eyes frozen wide.

Ripping the knife from her bloody chest, he pulled a bandanna out of his back pocket. Running it over the thick, sticky blood, he wiped the blade clean, the sharp steal glistening in the last rays of sunlight streaming through the window.

Grinning, he whispered "Two down, ten to go."

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**A/N:** Another one dead. What fun! The lesson: Cleevage leads to death. It's true, you know, that the slut always dies after the black guy (not trying to be racist). Think hard. In the movies, who goes next? And who is the killer? Find out when the next chapter goes up, which will be whenever I get around to writing it.


	5. Curiosity Killed The Cat

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Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight for any of the characters.

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**Curiosity Killed The Cat**

"Lauren! I just left the living room. I don't want to go back in, there's nothing in there to do!" Mike groaned, trudging behind his girlfriend as she made her way down the hall towards the front entryway.

Up until about ten minutes ago she had been aimlessly wandering around the first floor, avoiding the staring eyes of her peers as she opened cupboards and checked under chairs. What she was looking for, she didn't really know; but every old abandoned house had a secret or two, and Lauren was determined to dig them up.

Having found nothing but dust bunnies and spider webs in the kitchen and pantry, she decided to continue her search in a more obvious place- the living room.

Just as she was rounding the corner to venture past the parlor, she ran smack into Mike. Literally.

"Ouch!" Lauren complained, rubbing her forehead where it hit his nose. "Mike, watch where you're going!"

"Watch where I'm going? What about you? You're the one who was going full tilt with your head down!" Mike groaned, holding his nose. "If I need plastic surgery, your bitch of a mother is so paying the bill."

"Plastic surgery is for pussy's that have low self esteem." Lauren grumbled, pushing her way past her boyfriend as she trekked onward to her destination. After a great amount of moaning, Mike reluctantly followed.

"I don't see what you're so interested in checking out in here," Mike said, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm not quite sure myself, but I'll know when I see it." Lauren said, throwing glances around until her eyes came to rest on the fireplace.

An iron gate covered the flu, leading up to a stonework front plate. The mantle was covered in burned down candles, thick puddles of wax pooling at the bases. Continuing upwards, her eyes came to rest upon what she thought to be a bad version of _American Gothic_.

"What a creepy painting." Lauren said, staring disdainfully at the Harrington's family portrait.

"Hate to tell you babe, but we already had this discussion. You missed it." Mike deadpanned, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Don't they look familiar to you?" Lauren asked, tilting her head as if to get a different view of the picture.

Mike crinkled his eyes. "No…"

"Not even a little bit?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"Look at the little girl- the one holding the teddy bear." Lauren pointed her out. "She just looks so familiar. Like I've seen her somewhere before…"

Squinting his eyes, Mike took one final, analytical look at the portrait before declaring "Nah. All I know is that the teddy bear is a freak. I mean, look at that eye, it's practically falling out! And the patchwork over his chest- so tacky."

"It's his heart…" She breathed out, locking her eyes on the faded red patchwork. "Or at least where his heart would be if he were alive."

"You read too much into that anatomy art class you take, babe. Now come on, we've spent way too much time in here already! We can put your knowledge of the human anatomy to work elsewhere, the master bedroom perhaps?"

"If you're bored, then you go!" Lauren huffed, slinking out of his arms.

"But Lauren, you're just being difficult!"

Bending down to look up through the grate inside the flu, she muttered "I'm staying here for a little while longer.

"Fine! Be that way," Mike grumbled, heading for the door. "See if I'm willing the next time you're horny…"

***

"You know, I love him and all, but all of this ghost busting shit? It's just too weird for me to handle right now."

"So you're serious. That body bag Ben was carrying around was actually filled with ghost hunting equipment?" Edward snorted.

"Uh-huh," Angela nodded, "The works. Garlic, some sort of electro magnetic frequency thing, salt… Alice drank his holy water. You should've seen the look on his face when she dove for the bottle and started chugging like it was a keg or something."

"That sounds like something Alice would do," Edward smiled fondly. "I wonder what Whitlock would say if he saw her laced on holy water. He's so over protective of her sometimes."

"Edward, I don't mean to pry," Angela said, shifting a little on the stair she was using as a seat, "But why doesn't Jasper go by Brandon like Alice does? I mean, they are siblings and all, but-"

Chuckling, Edward shook his head. "No, Angela. You've got it all wrong. Jasper and Alice may be siblings, but not fraternally. Jasper was adopted."

Eyes going wide, Angela gasped. "Oh! I didn't mean to- I mean, I didn't know that-"

"It's alright. Let me explain," Edward said, his eyes gaining a far away look. "After Alice was born, the Brandon's tried for another kid; they wanted their daughter to grow up with a sibling so she wouldn't be lonely. They tried for three years, but each time they succeeded in a pregnancy, Mrs. Brandon miscarried one way or another. So they gave up for a little while."

Leaning towards Edward, Angela listened in rapt attention.

"It wasn't until Alice was six that they decided adoption was what they were going to do. It's sort of funny that Jasper was the child they chose- after all, most families adopt young children, or even babies, but Jasper was nine at the time. I remember that he was so confused when the counselor pulled him out of bed early in the morning for a parental meeting. He couldn't believe that someone was interested in him. That he was wanted."

"But Edward, how do you know all of this?" Angela asked after a long pause on Edward's part.

Sniffling slightly, Edward continued "Because I was living at the same adoption agency. Jasper was my bunk-mate. He told me all about how the car crash claimed his parents and his sister, how he was the only one to make it out alive, and how he refused to cry when the cops showed up. In turn I told him about my parents and the fire. Being the two oldest there, we bonded and became friends. That's why I was so sad to see him go."

"And you just-"

"But I was happy," Edward cut her off, lost in his memories. "Happy that he would be with a family who loved him, happy that he was getting another little sister, happy that he would be going home. To a real home."

"You don't sound very happy." Angela whispered, watching as a single tear fell from his lashes.

"Well, you know how I said that families like to adopt younger children? It was a fluke that Jasper was adopted; he had been there for nearly a year and a half before being signed out. I was there for the grand total of ten months. I was now the oldest kid at the agency, my best friend was gone, and there was a slim to none chance that I would be adopted before I became of age to be released without guardianship. How would you feel?" He snapped, murder in his eyes.

Angela shrank back, clearly afraid. Was he going to blow? Should she run?

Blinking back a barrage of tears, Edward glanced at her shrinking form, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry, Weber. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Angela nodded, but stayed leaning back. She knew now that Edward had a temper, and she didn't want to get on the wrong side of it.

Silence stretched out between them, filled only by their deep breathing and the occasional sigh. Getting a grip on his emotions, Edward whispered "Shall I continue?"

Angela, now feeling more sure of herself, sat up strait, scooting herself closer to Edward.

"Please," She said, placing a careful hand on his arm.

Closing his eyes, Edward got back into the vibe. "To my surprise, just three weeks after Japer was adopted, I was asked to sit in on a parental meeting as well."

"Dr. Cullen." Angela smiled.

"Yes, Carlisle and Esme Cullen. As soon as my name rolled off of Esme's tongue, I knew that I wanted to be a part of her family. And Carlisle… there are no words to describe the way he looked at me when we were introduced. It was like- I don't know! I just knew that they were the ones; my parents. I couldn't wait to become a Cullen."

"But Jasper-"

"Kept his parents' name. He was, and always will be a Whitlock."

"That's very sweet." Angela cooed, giving Edward a brief hug. "The only thing I find weird is that out of all the families you guys could've had, you both managed to get one that lived in the same town."

"Now that is just sheer dumb luck. When I saw him leaving with the Brandons', I never thought I'd see him again. Fortune's favor, I guess; I got to keep my best friend." Edward finished, standing up.

"Hey Angela? Have you seen Bella anywhere? I've been trying to find her."

"Sorry Edward," Angela replied, "I haven't. I'd help you look for her, but I've got to go find Ben. Who knows what he's up to with that stake of his."

Edward got two steps before turning and frowning, "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."

"Never took you for a prude Cullen." Angela giggled, heading upstairs.

Narrowing his eyes, Edward turned on his heel heading off in the opposite direction. "Maybe there's a lot about me you don't know."

***

"Hey, Tyler's out of the game." Alice said, coming up behind Lauren.

"What?" Lauren said distractedly, shifting the painting. "Shit, no safe." She muttered under her breath.

"He's out. He left; the Sentra is gone." Alice clarified, bouncing over to stand beside Lauren.

"Fuck! No I have no way home!" Lauren complained, inwardly cursing Tyler for not holding up his end of the bargain. He promised that if he got out early, he'd wait around for her, Mike, Eric and Jessica.

"Well, if you stay long enough, I'm sure Rose would take you home." Alice replied, taking a look at the painting for the first time. "What a freak show family."

"Tell me about it." Lauren groaned, and then added "Hey, does the girl with the teddy bear look familiar to you?"

Taking a good long look, Alice shrugged and exclaimed "Nah!"

Shifting her eyes back to the painting, Lauren breathed out "Maybe it's just me."

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**A/N: **I gave you all a reprieve from character death to clear a few things up. A lot of you were asking me about Alice nad Jasper's relationship, not being able ot figure out if they were siblings, or boyfriend/girlfriend. Hope this helps. And the plot thickens- what happened to Tyler's car? There were enough people outside, they would've noticed if it was gone. Why was Alice the only one to realise? And remember: I don't touch base with every single character in every chapter, so they could be moving around to different places as you don't hear about them. The only thing I'll sya is that I like a good twist. Thanks for all of the reviews!


	6. Double Or Nothing

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.**

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**Double Or Nothing**

He trailed through the house as silent as a specter; always wary, always alert. His eyes darted into every dark corner, every nook, every cranny- searching. For him. For her. For them. Things had been going good so far, and he wasn't about to stop now.

Lynching Tyler in the barn was an easy first target, the area being secluded and far enough away from the rest of the group that they wouldn't hear the struggle. The plan was to strike quickly, to drive his blade deep into the bastard's spine, effectively letting him gather dirt and dust, so in a few months he would be pushing up a stray patch of daisies on the natural earth born floor of the barn. What he didn't foresee was the rapscallious slime patrolling his hiding place with a bloody pitchfork. Why did the scoundrel think he needed a weapon? Was he prepared to chase away anyone that intruded on his hiding space? No matter.

Too bad he had no way to guard the hay loft.

It was convenient that there just so happened to be a ladder in pile of rusty tools only a couple feet away. Cliché, but convenient. At this point he didn't really care. All that mattered was getting the job done. Propping the ladder to the loft's entry, he gracefully made his way up, pulling back the shutters, and sliding noiselessly in. The soft hay cushioning his fall, he took a moment to survey his surroundings. A sickle hung from a rusty nail on one of the posts, the blade scratched and corroded- rust just wouldn't do. A few coils of rope took up agency near the edge of the platform, probably meant for bailing; useless, unless he was planning on staying in the loft. A chain or two took refuge amongst the straw, but they would be of no help.

Then he saw it. Sticking out of one of the low-hanging rafters was the handle of a knife. Walking over, her wrapped his hand around it, and tugged hard. After much wiggling and tearing, it came free. The blade was shining iron, not too long but not too short, the handle carved from what appeared to be bone. It was perfect.

Just as he was making his way back towards the tiny window, the barn was flooded with light. Dropping down to the platform, he gazed over the edge, just in time to see Crowley turn his back to close the massive doors. The boy searched around, examining the place with a smile plastered on his ugly face, before crossing to the stables, out of view. He reappeared moments later with a pitch fork over his shoulder and began pacing back and forth in front of the door.

What, did he plan to stay there until sunrise hoping that everyone forgot about him? That the last one standing inside the house would leave and he would be victorious?

Looking over his shoulder, he silently calculated how far away the window was and what his chances were of getting out unnoticed. With this creaky floor? It just wasn't happening.

Time for the back-up plan.

Sliding the hunting knife securely into the back of his pants, he locked his eyes on his new weapon. Reaching out for some rope, he worked at uncoiling it, doubling the piece back on itself to begin the set of thirteen loops. Of course he wasn't an executioner at a professional gallows, but this would have to do. Beside, the number of loops in a hang man's noose was currently ironic. One loop for each of the participants in this childish game…

Perhaps he'd give Crowley a little present, something to remember him by.

"_Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor."_

Inching himself forward, he winced at the squeaking sound the boards made under his weight. The sound caused Tyler to look skyward. He started shouting about anyone being there, which was just asinine. Who would answer him if they wanted to stay hidden?

_Scratch! Scratch!_

Turning to his right, he watched as a pair of bright yellow eyes appeared amongst the hay. In a flash, a thin black cat scurried towards the platform and took a running leap.

Tyler's girlish scream was just too satisfying to his ears.

This was his shot.

Jumping to his feet, he took aim and dropped the noose, successfully hooking Tyler's neck. With a sharp tug, the snare tightened.

"You seriously thought that hiding out here would help your odd of winning?" He called down, his voice filled with mirth by the choking coughs, but that did nothing to alleviate him physically. The struggle from down below was straining against him- he needed a tactic. With much effort, he crept backwards, rope still in hand, and worked hard to tie it around one of the rafters.

All was silent.

Checking to make sure he had the knife, he jumped down to the floor, landing in a crouch. During the struggle, the cat hadn't budged. Bathing himself, he stared up with his wide yellow eyes, a smirk seeming to curl at the edge of his jowls.

Picking him up, he stroked the deep black fur, feeling the tiny bone underneath. His little malnourished friend. Partners in crime.

Too bad he had to take the second task solo.

He released the cat outside the barn, making his way to the house. There were no pleasantries as he made his way towards the second floor, instinctually knowing that's where he would find his next victim.

Vanity thy name is Jessica.

Stabbing her naked tits with his new knife had been far too satisfying. The crimson blood smattering against her fake tanned skin, staining the white tiled floor- it was the best of mental photographs. He kind of wished she would've put up a bit of a fight; it would have been more fun that way.

But fun wasn't his motive. He had exactly ten more crimes to commit, and he only had so long to do it before people got tired and started to leave.

Ah shit. He forgot to get rid of Crowley's car. If it was left out in the field with the others, eventually someone would go looking for him.

He'd have to take care of that. Then back to the house to get corpse number three.

His hit list had only just begun to dwindle. So many bodies and so little time.

Let the bodies hit the floor.

***

The tiny green light blinked at him in mocking as he scanned over every inch of the dining room.

"Damn it," Ben groaned, slamming his EMF reader on the table. Desperate times called for desperate measures…

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a copy of a miniature edition of the _Supernatural Encyclopedia_. Out of the few rooms he had checked already, there were no signs of paranormal activity. He heard the rumors about the farmhouse, riddled with tales of ghostly specters wandering the corridors after dark and of phantom moans and cries of anguish drifting through the air on mysterious breezes. They were the reason he agreed to the bet; not the promise of the prize of whomever or whatever he wanted. He already had Angela, and as for what he wanted? It was to see a real ghost, perhaps try to communicate with it. The way he saw it, he figured that he would be a winner no matter what if he could track down one of the old Harrington or Davenport specters.

To bad so far his hunt had been a fucking waste of his time. Not once had his EMF reader spiked up to a reading over two, and the temperature hasn't dropped a single degree. It was official: This house was about as haunted as his gym locker at school.

The tea lights he had lit weren't doing much to help his reading. Flipping through the pages quickly, he skimmed his eyes over the words, hanging on to the dying hope that there was at least one spirit that could go completely unnoticed by modern technology. Muttering to himself about the pros and cons of poltergeists, Ben was blind to the sound of footfalls coming up behind him.

"_Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor."_

He cried out in agony as a swift slash to the back of both knees brought him crashing to the ground.

"Fuck!" He screamed, feeling the hot tacky blood seeping down the back of both his legs. The torn edges of his jeans stuck tight to the open wound, acting as a barbaric sort of tourniquet. Ben prayed it would stop the blood flow long enough for him to play possum, find Angela, and get to safety; otherwise known as his Honda.

As if reading his mind, a smooth chuckle sounded from above him, tinkling like bells. "Do you honestly think you can get away from _me_?"

Ben shivered, recognizing the voce. As he tried desperately to turn his head, a hard object cracked against the back of his skull, effectively making the world go deadly black. He was down for the count.

Tossing the night vision goggles to the floor, he bent down to steal the wooden stake from Cheney's back pocket. What, did he think the place was haunted with vampires or something?

"This could come in handy," He muttered, yanking it upward, ripping the pocket seams, causing a cell phone to tumble out in its wake. Smirking, he grabbed it as well.

"Time to have some fun…"

_Click!_

***

"Stupid fucking flashlight," Alice hissed, banging on the end with her palm.

She had just left Lauren in the living room, and with the discovery that Tyler was out of the game; she wondered just how many of them were actually left. She scoured room after room, peeking in on a few familiar faces, mentally tallying up how many she had seen outside when she first noticed the Sentra missing. Not counting Lauren, she had come upon no more than three others.

Where the hell was everyone?

The flashlight flickered again as she passed through the parlor. "Damn thing," She muttered, "Of course I would forget my extra batteries in the car…"

The flashlight extinguished entirely.

"Shit."

"No, I believe the correct term is darkness. Shit is a synonym for feces." A hollow voice said from the darkness.

"What in the-"

All of a sudden, the room was flooded with a hazy glow, as if from a candle. The dining room. She had wandered in to the dining room. The candle stood proud and tall in the center of the table, a thick monstrosity of white wax. Just at the edge of its glow, a dark form caught her eyes.

"_Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor."_

The low chanting was like a time bomb ticking in the back of her mind. Glancing down, she screamed at the sight of Ben Cheney, blood matting his jeans and hair, spilling out in a pool around his body; his equipment scattered all around.

"You shall scream no more." The same voice from before, this time just off to her right.

Turning fast, she raised her flashlight to use as a weapon, but was stunned into shock. Gasping, she didn't register the pain when the stake made contact with her temple, a tiny trickle of blood making its way down her jaw line. The flashlight cluttered to the floor as her useless form crumpled upon itself. Slumping mere feet from Ben's morbid form, she joined him in the pit of death.

***

His breathing was heavy as he looked upon the pair. That last death had been unexpected; she wasn't supposed to go until later. Way later.

Oh well. Death had its list, and her name must've got moved up while he wasn't looking. Never the less, he did not smile as he pulled out the camera phone, once again entering the picture menu.

_Click! Click! Click!_

A souvenir for the others.

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**A/N: **Yes, I decided to give you a POV from the killer. Thought it would be fun. And due to the poor death rate in the last chapter, I decided to treat you all with this one. VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: Just because I tell the killer's POV form a 'he' standard, does not mean it is a guy. Many of you were taking advantage of the fact that I use the word 'he' and the deep voice as a hint to the killer's sex. The only reason I'm using 'he' is that it is easier than refering to the killer as an 'it'. Don't know when the next update will be, but stay tuned!


	7. Bloodlust

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.**

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**Bloodlust**

"Weber, I thought your crack ass boyfriend told you that salt would keep anything evil out," Rosalie growled, narrowing her eyes.

"He did," Angela nodded, staring out the dust covered window into the darkness.

Grabbing her shoulder, Rosalie spun her around, shining her flashlight directly into Angela's eyes. "Then why the fuck was McCarty able to cross it?"

Looking past Rose and her flashlight, she could make out the vague silhouette of Emmett as he lounged against the wall, just inside the doorway.

"Great, just what we need…" Angela muttered, pushing the flashlight away from her face. Rosalie, in turn, flipped it around to blind Emmett.

"What do you want, Emmett?" Angela groaned, pushing off the wall. She knew what was going to happen, and she didn't like it one bit. Every time Rosalie and Emmett were in the same room, an argument began, which most time led to fighting; and occasionally, even bloodshed. Well, that was just that one time when Rosalie went off and threw a punch hard enough to break McCarty's nose, but still.

"Nothing from you, Weber," Emmett intoned as he stalked forward. "What I want is an explanation from Hale over here. She owes me that much."

"I don't owe you anything, you bastard." Rosalie growled, advancing towards him as well.

"I'll say you do. I want to know how you pulled that fucking disappearing act in the corn maze about an hour ago."

"Ah, yes, the maze. Let's have a little chat about that, shall we?" Rosalie said, flailing her arms about wildly, causing their only source of light to zip about like a firefly. "One minute I'm there explaining the alien theory to Jasper and Bella, then the next I'm all alone with only the badly impersonated howl of a wolf to keep me company. Oh, and I know that was you by the way. No one else here would be juvenile enough to pull off such a cheap stunt for a thrill."

"It wasn't me, it was Eric. And for your information, pumpkin, there is no such thing as aliens, so whatever your retarded theory was, it was wrong."

"Forget the aliens! Now tell me what in hell's name you did with my friends!"

"I didn't do anything to them!" Emmett screamed, getting right up in her face, forcing her to back up into the wall. "On the flip side, I was stalking the three of you through the maze hoping I could possibly kidnap one or two of you and forcibly make you cross the property boundaries but-"

"So you admit it! I knew we weren't alone out there. I just knew-"

"Haven't you been listening to a thing I just said?" He growled, pinning her arms on either side of her head, causing the flashlight to crash to the ground, the batteries flying out of place into the now total darkness. "I didn't do anything to your prissy friends! Fuck!"

"You had to!" She protested, trying to free herself from his vice-like grip. "Jasper was in front of me, and Bella was behind me. I turned around to talk to Bella, and she as gone. Not a minute later, Jasper was gone too! There was only the three of us-"

"Five of us…"

"-you two don't count! The point is that they're gone, and since I know they didn't just vanish into thin air, it had to be your fault!"

"You vanished into thin air when I went to grab you!"

"That's because I cut through the stalks to get out!"

"Uh, guys?" Angela said timidly, watching the fight with fear. "I think I'll be going now."

"Did it ever cross your mind that they might have run off together for a little alone time?" Emmett simpered, ignoring Angela entirely. She took this chance to slip out unscathed.

"Nuh-uh. No way would Bella be lusting after someone other than Edward."

"Look Hale, I've had it with this asinine arguing. I don't give a damn about Whitlock or Swan; all I care about is you."

"Aww Emmett, I didn't know you cared." Rosalie deadpanned.

"Let me rephrase that: The only thing I care about is getting my biggest competition out of the game."

"Who?"

"You." Without warning, Emmett bent down and grabbed Rosalie by the legs, leaning her over his shoulder.

"What the fuck McCarty?" She shrieked, pounding her fists against his back. She attempted to kick him hard enough so he would lose his grip on her, but to no avail. He took her kicks like they were sweet caresses.

"I'm sorry Rose, but I'm not leaving anything to chance." Emmett cooed as he carried her out the door. "Nothing will come between us- not even you."

***

"So we meet again."

Bella's eyes shot up, following the jumpy glow of her flashlight.

"Hello? Who's there?" Her voice was shaky, the words getting caught in her throat.

"No need to be scared, Swan, it's just me." Edward said, walking into the beam of her torch.

Sighing with relief, Bella breathed out "So what? Now you lurk around in dark corners? Cullen, you're just too weird for me."

"I wasn't lurking, I was hiding."

"From what?"

"Yorkie."

"Why?"

"Because he asks far too many questions for his own good." Edward replied tersely as he crossed the room to take a seat on an old piano bench that was positioned in front of its matching baby grand.

Deciding not to question it further, Bella steeled herself against the wall and watched in silence as Edward began running his long, graceful fingers across the ivory keys.

"So where were you all this time? Everyone has been going in and out but you've been MIA. What's the deal?" Edward asked as he experimented with the keys.

"Oh you know, being clumsy, getting separated from my friends, stumbling around in a corn maze, making my way back to the house in nearly complete darkness… The usual." She snapped, replaying her escapades in her head one by one; not all of them good, but some very fulfilling.

"Sounds like you're the lurker, not me." He smirked.

She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

One set of scales after another poured out of the grime covered instrument; each set a couple of notes higher than the next. The music was bittersweet to her ears until… nothing.

Realizing the abrupt stop in sound, Edward backtracked and replayed the scale again; it stopped in the same place. An empty, hollow sound reverberating though the air instead of a perfect crescendo.

"That's odd…" He muttered, standing up and moving around to the open top.

"What's odd? What are you up to?" Bella asked, moving slightly closer as she watched Edward plunge his arm down into the dark crater.

"Just give me a minute. Something must be stopping the vibrations- sitting on the strings."

"Most likely a super huge dust bunny, considering where we are." Bella jibed, shining the flashlight inside the piano to help Edward.

"I don't know about any of the dust bunnies you've seen, but this sure doesn't look like one I've seen before," He said, retracting his hand from the instrument. Clutched tightly in his fingers was a shiny box, tiny green numbers flashing for the display.

"It's a cell phone…"

Edward shot her a glare that clearly said 'No shit Sherlock'. Flipping it open, his fingers began to rapidly tap the keys, lending sound to the otherwise silent parlor.

"What are you doing?" Bella asked, walking over to peek over his shoulder.

"Trying to find out who it belongs to. It has to be one of ours, since I'm pretty sure these things weren't invented back in the '40s."

"What're you going to do? Dial the first number in the phone book and say, _'Hi, I'm calling from an unknown cell phone I found in an old piano. Would you happen to recognize this number and tell me who owns it?'_ Oh yeah, that's going to get you brownie points with the call recipient."

"For your information Swan, I'm checking the picture log. Everyone who owns a cell phone takes at least one bad picture of themselves and leaves it in the album for laughs." He replied, making his way into the photo album. The first picture was of an overweight cocker spaniel, staring woefully ahead.

"Well that tells us nothing." She snorted, as he moved on to the next picture, which showed an elderly couple sitting on a battered old couch.

"Recognize them?"

"Nope."

The third picture yielded results. Ben and Angela grinned ridiculously at the camera, their faces tight together. It was apparent they took the picture themselves. The fourth was a picture of Ben behind the wheel of his Honda, staring through the windshield, most likely oblivious that he was photographed.

The pictures continued on this way, random shots of the happy couple in random activities, making funny faces. At least, until picture thirteen.

"Hey, you think this is some sort of kink?" Edward said, pointing at the phone screen. "I mean, dead-play, of course. Ben sure is good at playing possum."

"No matter how kinky it is, you couldn't fucking pay me to lay down in a pile of corn syrup. "I don't do anything that requires getting down and dirty on the floor".

Rolling his eyes, Edward shot "There goes your social life."

_Click!_

"Alice? What the hell is a picture of her doing on Ben's phone?" Bella chimed, staring at the screen.

"Technically, we don't know its Ben's phone." Edward corrected, "It could be Angela's. But I'd say the better question is why does she have corn syrup on her face? I can't wait to tell Whitlock that his sister was in a threesome."

"Shut up and keep going."

_Click! _Alice lying on the floor, something sticking out of her temple._ Click! _Alice lying beside Ben. _Click! _A close up on Alice's bright blue eyes- wide, bloodshot, cloudy. _Click!_ A pair of some sort of goggles, covered in the corn-syrupy substance.

"Cullen?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"Please, for the love of god I'm begging you, just hold me and tell me that this is some sort of joke- that everything is going to be alright."

Snapping the phone shut, Edward set it on the piano keys, a solemn look eclipsing his face.

"Unfortunately I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because Bella," He said, running his hand through his already messy hair, "I'm not sure what the hell is going on. I just know it's bad."

"But-"

"No buts. Screw the bet; we need to get out. Now."

"But we need to find the others! Rosalie and Jasper and Emmett and Angela and-"

"Okay. We'll split up. You want the house or yard?"

"House."

"Fine. I'll take the yard."

Nodding her head, Bella turned to leave, but a hand on her shoulder caused her to freeze.

"And Bella?" His voice was soft, soothing.

Turning around, Bella sighed contently as he enveloped her in a tight embrace. Placing a soft, tender kiss on her forehead, he whispered "Be safe" before disappearing into the darkness.

***

Out of all the places in the house to stumble upon, Angela just had to find the basement.

The stairs creaked, the old light bulb hung shattered in its socket, pieces of broken glass clinging to the moss growing up out of the dirt floor. The stench of mold hung acrid in the air, giving the room a musty sort of feel, embellished by tiny water droplets trickling down the stone walls.

To Angela, the vibe was unwelcome; loathsome, threatening. Everything from the jars full of unidentifiable substances that were stacked up to the ceiling, to the rusted tools hanging from bent nails forced into the concrete seemed foreboding… how annoying. Why couldn't she end up somewhere that was all sunshine and rainbows?

Shining her flashlight around, she looked for any sign that her boyfriend could be, or had been there, aside from the obvious. The doorway _did_ have a line of salt across it when she wandered down the stairs into the belly of the cellar, but it wasn't complete- a set of two lines passed through it; shoe prints. Ben's, hopefully.

However, aside from the salt, she couldn't see anything else that acted as a clue. No novel on how to fend off renegade zombies, no satellite phone beeping incessantly, no EMF machine lying around. If he had been here, it was apparent that he had moved on.

"_Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor."_

Odd chanting. Now that could be her boyfriend…

Turning around to head back over to the stairs where the voice was coming from, she shrieked as an arm caught her around the waist, pulling her into a solid chest. Another cold, heather covered hand came up to cover her mouth, causing her eyes to widen as she stared at the figure in front of her. As he stepped forward, Angela was forced to stumble back to avoid being trampled on. One step, two, then another… It took seven steps for her ankles to hit something hard- an up rise; a step.

Pushing on, the familiar face forced her to step up and back, before shoving her away from his body with great force. She crumpled to the floor of the cupboard, trapped by three solid wood walls and the human- if anyone this cruel could be called one- in front of her. She watched in horror as the knife was raised above her, the blade thrusting downward in slow motion. Angela barely had time to scream before it made contact with her breast, the shattering of bone exceedingly loud to her ears.

No more sternum for her.

"A brave one," The voice poured over her like honey, running thick and hot into her eyes, causing them to blur. "You didn't even scream."

With one hard tug, the knife was forced out of her cadaver, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

"Too bad," Out came the cloth, already bloody from his previous kills, ready to purify his new toy. "I rather enjoy it when they scream."

Sheathing the knife down the neck of his shirt, the cloth already resting back in the depths of his pocket, he slammed the door of the rickety armoire shut, creating a closed casket for the deceased. Standing up, he turned on his heel, making his way back up the stairs. For victim number six, the hunt was on.

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**A/N: **I know, long time no update. I've had ADD as of late, and can't concentrate on one single thing for a great amount of time without moving on to something else. This fic was one of the many things I couldn't concentrate one. At least I finially updated. I have realised that in the previous chapter, I didnt' state why Ben and Alice had to die. Heres why: Ben simply took too many stupid gadgets. Alice found the first body, and had the killer trapped at the scene. Angela died because the hunt is now on. Time is ticking and there are still too mant people snooping around the house. They need to be taken care of. Thanks for all of the reviews I've been getting, adn I can only hope that the next chapter will come sooner than this one did.


	8. Last Man Standing

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.**

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**Last Man Standing**

"Hell no! No way am I leaving this far into the game!"

"But it's not safe anymore! We need to get out of here while we still have the chance." Bella protested, annoyed at Emmett's ignorance of the situation.

"Why is it unsafe? Because you and Cullen found those retarded photos on that phone? How do you know they weren't planted? Faked to scare us off?" Emmett questioned, refusing to back down.

"McCarty's right, Swan." Eric put in. "What if Ben, Angela, and Alice decided to team up and make us think they were out?"

"Not happening, Yorkie." Rosalie snapped. "Alice and Bella are helping me acquire some new wheels; wheels that just so happen to come in the form of a '67 Chevrolet Impala." She added, smirking at Emmett.

"Doesn't mean they weren't faked." Eric shrugged.

"And if they weren't?" Edward demanded. "What then? You're just going to wait around like a sitting duck until you're next? We have to face the facts: Someone or something is out there, and for all we know, it's coming after us next. Tyler was the smart one, leaving when he did."

"Wait a minute, hold up." Bella interrupted, her eyes widening. "Tyler's gone?"

"When I was outside searching the yard, I noticed his car was gone." Edward answered plainly. "He must've left pretty early on."

"Who says he left? Maybe the boogie man got him." Emmett chuckled.

"Look, whatever. The point is that it's not safe here. We're not safe."

"From the way you're talking, Cullen, I'd say that you're just trying to get us to leave the property." Rosalie said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "Like you're trying to get us out of here so you can claim the prize for yourself."

"Don't you think that if I wanted you gone, I would've let Emmett toss you over the fence before I mentioned this little get together? One less person to worry about." Edward scoffed.

"I know!" Emmett growled. "And if you hadn't been so righteous and stopped me, Hale would be out of the game by now!"

"Or at least to safety, as you claim." She scoffed.

"Come on you guys, I think we're all forgetting something." Eric said, bringing everyone's attention to him. "It's not only Edward that's trying to get us to leave. It's Bella."

"No way would Bella turn traitor on me!" Rosalie cried. "She's too virtuous to go behind my back like that!"

"Oh yeah, good point." Eric conceded.

"Rose! I would never betray yo- Hey!" Bella stopped point blank, turning her not-so-steely gaze to Eric. "Who are you calling virtuous, Yorkie? Only Rosalie's allowed to joke about that."

"Oh wait, I forgot; you're with Cullen now, aren't you Swan." He tittered sarcastically.

"I am not with-"

"Look, could we stop all of this asinine chatter and get back to the fucking point, _please_?" Emmett boomed, attempting to get the conversation back on track.

"Ooh, asinine. Big word for such a small man, McCarty." Rosalie chuckled.

"Small? He's, like, the biggest, buffest person in town, or have you forgotten?" Eric rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't talking about his stature," Rosalie bit her lip in a teasing way, looking pointedly down at Emmett's crotch.

"Like you would know." Emmett scoffed.

"You've been quiet through all of this, Jasper; what do you think?" Edward asked, breaking the pointless bickering up, turning his gaze upon the solemn form of the boy he had come to think of as a brother.

Jasper blinked, remaining silent as he shifted on the arm of the couch he had occupied since Rosalie and Bella found him and drug him along to the impromptu meeting that they were holding in the living room. He had been confused at first when everyone was being called together, but now he understood perfectly. He had watched too many horror movies- remembered the cliché routine. He knew that Edward and Bella were most likely right- that the situation was all too real. However, he had to try.

"I think that I'm going to find my sister," He said, standing up, keeping his gaze on the family portrait. "And then, we're going home."

"Fine, to each his own." Emmet chimed. "Whitlock's out, as is Brandon. You know that I'm still in. Hale?" He questioned, pointing to the girl in question.

"You know me, McCarty. I'm not a quitter."

Emmett sighed deeply, clearly disappointed that he would have to work extra hard to get her to leave the farmhouse.

"Yorkie?" He continued.

"Count me in." Eric replied, seeming bored with the situation. "Yeah, sure. Why not? It's not like I've got anything better to do."

"Homework." Rosalie coughed.

Eric just snorted.

"Cullen? Swan? I presume that you're both out, what with all the pleading and whining that it isn't safe. You two would be better off tucked in your bed, doing every naughty thing you can think of to take your mind off your defeat."

"How is it defeat if we're leaving because there's a potential _murderer_ among us?" Edward demanded.

"It's defeat because there is no killer, you're just giving up."

"I am not giving up! If it wasn't too dangerous, you know that I'd stay and play this out!"

"There he goes with the danger shit again." Rosalie put in.

"It is not shit!"

"Then prove it!" Emmett challenged. "You and Bella stick around for the rest of the game, and we play it out. If either of you can give us valid proof that something weird really is going on, you win. We'll all pack up and split, meeting back here tonight so the two of you can claim the prize." Rosalie began to protest, but Emmett held up a hand, effectively silencing her. "Don't argue, Hale. They deserve it if something really is up."

"And the pictures? They don't count as proof?" Edward asked; although he knew the answer he would most likely get in return.

"I don't know about the others, but I'll take nothing less than a body. Which you won't find." Emmett smirked.

"Know something we don't, McCarty?" Bella asked, narrowing her eyes at the bigger man.

"Perhaps."

"Look, can we just stop all this fucking shit and get back to the game already?" Rosalie groaned. "I'm not getting any closer to my new car by just sitting around."

"So it's settled." Eric said. "The game's still on. Anyone comes across the three corpses, tell them that their retarded prank failed and move on. If you come across Newton or Mallory, well, explain the newly installed Bella/Edward clause. If we do end up leaving, no one gets left behind."

"Hey," Jasper said, shooting his eyes around the group. "Where _is_ Mike and Lauren?"

***

"Fuck!" Lauren screamed, tossing her head back in ecstasy, not caring in the least that it cracked off the headboard.

"Oh yeah, fuck baby! That's it, right there…" Mike panted, thrusting deeper, never relenting.

"So much better than damn treasure hunting!" Lauren exclaimed, digging her French manicure into his shoulder blades.

"You got that- _fuck!_- right." Mike grunted, blinking away the drops of sweat that pooled over his lashes.

Lauren clenched her muscles in reply.

***

The porch swing creaked as Rosalie threw herself down on it. From its chipped paint and splintery demeanor, she half expected it to collapse underneath her less than modest weight. She was no supermodel, all pin thin and skin and bones, but she was pretty and she knew it. With curves for miles and an athletic build, she was nobody's prize, but better off than some; which seemed contradictory upon first glance. For the majority of high school she had hid behind baggy bands shirts and too long jeans; hiding herself from the prying eyes of the dogs that littered the hallway- a.k.a. boys. She may have forgone high heels like a good deal of the school's female population, substituting the death traps for sneakers and flip flops, but her long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes seemed to attract guys galore. However, that fact did nothing for her self esteem. Knowing that in the society of today you either had to be anorexic or a slut to get any real compassion from a male, she took to shielding her womanly figure beneath layers of cotton and denim, so as not to get ridiculed and chastised for actually having a bit of muscle. She wanted to fade into the background; a snarky watcher of the masses who could be left alone and not singled out.

Too bad some people just couldn't take the hint.

"I though I saw you make a break for outside," Emmett said, the screen door swinging shut behind him.

"Yeah, well, I thought a head start would be ideal, considering the last time we crossed paths you tried to throw me over a fence." She deadpanned, grabbing hold of one of the rusty chains that were holding the swing up for support. The more hand holds, the less chance he had of picking her up again.

"A mistake on my part, I assure you." Emmett conceded, making his way over to the empty side of the swing. "May I?" He asked, gesturing to decaying wood.

"Whatever, but don't blame me if it collapses." She shrugged, her feet leaving the ground as his weight propelled the swing into a slow motion wave. "Besides, it's not like what I wanted ever made a difference to you before."

"How little you know." Emmett muttered, keeping up their gentle swaying. "You think that because you cover up with layers of cloth and a sarcastic façade, that you can hide the real you from the world."

This got her attention. She glanced up, locking her eyes on his profile, his dark brown orbs focused on something off in the distant darkness. "How do you know the real me?"

"I don't. All I know is that you're a snarky bitch with self esteem issues who tries to cover up some hidden part of yourself because you're afraid of the stereotypes and of what other people will think of you."

Rosalie's eyes bugged out.

"I thought so," He flicked his eyes over to lock on hers. "Then again, I don't know what it is about you. You spent the entire four years of high school trying to blend in, and when someone actually gives a damn about getting to know the real you, you spend you time thinking up size jokes to insult him in front of his friends. That's petty, even for you."

"I don't-"

"Then again, perhaps it's like back in elementary, when you pick on the guy you like." He grinned, cutting her off. "I know that sometimes I revert to childish acts, but make no mistake, Rosalie, I do have feelings for you."

"Cut the shit, Emmett. I know you want something. Just spit it out."

"Perhaps I do, but that doesn't change the fact that everything I've said was true. Wasn't it?"

Rosalie just shot her eyes downward.

"Look Hale, I've come to you with a proposition." He continued, trying to meet her eyes again, and failing because of the angle.

"Go on," She muttered.

Reaching out, Emmett gently tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. When he was positive that she wouldn't look away, he dropped his hand to her thigh, and began tracing tentative circles. Surprisingly, she didn't stop him.

"I was thinking that for the remainder of this thing, we could team up. Drop all prejudices, all scheming against each other, and work towards a common goal. The prize."

"Psh, yeah. Cause we really want the same thing."

"I think we do." Emmett stated.

"Explain how a car and a one night stand equal the same thing? And don't even say the back seat," Rosalie scolded, scooting a little closer to him.

"They're not. I was thinking more about our drive to win." He elaborated. "You and I both know that the other hates losing, and that one of us will have to for either of us to get what we want."

She nodded, listening raptly.

"So, I propose that we team up. If either of us wins, they'll do the prize acceptance tomorrow night, but then dole out the other one privately. Either way, you still get my car. Either way, you win."

"I don't see being the victim of one of your one night stands as winning."

"It won't be a one night stand, Rose. Not unless you want it to be." She perked up at the use of her nickname. _He never called me Rose before…_

"All I want if for you to give me a chance. One chance to get to know you on more than just a physical level. I want us to be intimate. To be able to talk, because believe it or not, we're more alike than you think."

Silence stretched out as she pondered this. She really needed the car. It wasn't like her self righteous father would hand over the money for a new one as long as his barely-older-than-her girlfriend was eating up his cash with frivolous purchases, and it wasn't like she had a job to raise the money to get a new one. And her mother- she didn't even want to think about her and her drug money. No; she had to get a vehicle by her own means, and her long time enemy was the only one offering her an out.

"So, if either of us wins, I get your Impala?" Rosalie asked timidly, glancing away from his all-knowing eyes.

"Yes."

"And either way, I also have to have sex with you?"

"Just once. If you enjoy it, well, the offer is always open to you, perhaps even a relationship. But if you want to forget about it, just say the word, and I'm out of your life for good."

More silence- the only sound was the far of chirping of crickets, and the croaking of a lone bullfrog.

"So Hale, do we have a deal?"

One second, two, then three…

"We have a deal." She smiled, reaching down to clasp his hand, only to claw at his skin before tossing it off. "And no more touching until we win. Got it McCarty?"

Chuckling deeply, Emmett replied, "Yes, you're royal pain," before getting up to follow her back inside.

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**A/N: **I know! Two months and I finally update! Well, this fic is now priority and I won't be starting another oneshot series until this fic is complete. The next update shouldn't take as long... I hope. At least now I'm inspired again. So, no deaths this time, but I might be forthcoming and give you one next time. Maybe. If you're all good and review. Thanks for all of the wonderful comments nad theories so far! They are always appreciated.


	9. Ecstasy

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.**

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**Ecstasy**

"Wow… I never knew haunted houses could make me so horny." Lauren sighed, caving back against the headboard.

"Yeah, remind me of that fact the next time we hit a rough spot," Mike replied, kicking the only sheet left covering him down to the foot of the bed. "Damn, this place needs an air conditioner."

"Now that I'll agree to." She nodded, closing her eyes in an attempt to block the heat out.

Several moments of silence passed between the two, the only sound coming from their vastly slowing breathing.

Lauren eventually broke it. "You know, I was thinking about that picture and-"

"Oh great. While I was thinking about lust and ecstasy, you were contemplating those damn creepers in that painting?" Mike cut in, rolling his eyes. "Why do I have to have such a screwed up girlfriend?"

"_And_ I kept thinking about that damn family. They just look so familiar. Especially the older boy and the kid with the teddy bear." She pressed on, ignoring his interruption.

"And what an ugly bear it was." He breathed out, recalling the rugged eyes and patch-work heart.

"I mean, doesn't it just strike you as eerie? The resemblance to-"

"Lauren, sweetie, the whole damn painting is eerie."

"But can't you see it? Some far off familiarity to-"

"Can we _please_ stop talking about the fucking family portrait from hell?" Mike said between gritted teeth. "You know I didn't want to come here in the first place tonight, and now you're doing everything humanly possible to etch it into my mind."

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Lauren sat up and began hunting for her clothes on the floor at her feet. "It didn't seem like you didn't want to be here when you were spouting out the game rules by the vehicles earlier on." She said, slipping on her panties.

"Yeah, well, I figured that if you were forcing me to be here, I might as well put on a good face." He said, just now realizing that she was in a state of redress. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Ignoring his question, she pulled her sweater over her head and pressed "And you were pretty gung ho about winning this thing. You still haven't told me what you prize is going to be, by the way."

"As far as I'm concerned, it's none of your damn business." He growled, getting annoyed.

"I told you what I wanted."

"Oh yes, how could I forget? All of this work just to get Brandon's damn necklace. Even if you do win, what makes you think she'll give up a family heirloom like that, anyways?"

"The fact that the deal was the winner would get whoever or whatever they wanted. I want that necklace. Besides, rubies just make her look dead."

Mike just snorted.

"Look, whatever. I'm going to the bathroom. Be back in a sec," She tossed over her shoulder as she pulled on her jeans and headed out the door.

"No shoes?" He called after her, "Are you crazy? You could get tetanus in a place like this!"

"Whatever, douche-bag!" Echoed back to him.

Shrugging in indifference, Mike stretched out his tired limbs, relaxing back against the moth-eaten sheets. Glancing down at the discarded condom on the floor, his eyes glazed over, giving way to one of his frequent fantasies.

"What do I want when I win this thing?" He asked the stale night air. "And I thought it was obvious…" Wrapping his sweaty hand around his hardening erection, he began stroking fervently, his thoughts lingering to a certain brown eyed beauty that was somewhere on the floor below him right at this very minute, having absolutely no idea what he was doing.

"Oh Bella, if your mind wasn't so clouded with thoughts of that retard Cullen, you'd be able to see just how well we'd fit together. You'd be the beauty; I'd be the brains… Together, we could rule this fuck ass town, wiping out all of the scum… McCartney and Hale would go first, then Cullen, then Whitlock and Brandon followed by Mallory-"

He cut himself off when the only light in the room- a tiny tea light Lauren had brought with her- was extinguished in a gust of air.

"Freaking bitch, leaving the window open," Mike cursed.

He was answered by a creaky floorboard.

"Lauren? Is that you?" Mike turned his head towards what he thought was the doorway.

Silence resonated through the darkness, answering only in the barely there whisperings of the group downstairs.

"Come on, Lauren. I know you're there. Hurry your scrawny ass up and get in here! I'm ready for round two!"

"It's not Lauren." A phantom voice replied from somewhere in the shadows. "Like I would ever be desperate enough to fuck someone like you."

Sitting up to seek out the owner, he was met with something shark and cold colliding with his lower abdomen.

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

"_Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor."_

***

Lauren was on her way to the bathroom. Stepping on her toes, she was trying her best to avoid the visibly large splinters and rusty nails that were sticking up out of the old floorboards.

"Curse Mike for being right," She hissed under her breath, dodging a huge hunk of plaster that had evidently fallen from the ceiling.

After their hot and sweaty tumble in the sheets, she was less than pleased with his attitude towards her. First, completely blowing her off about the portrait and then refusing to tell her what his prize is going to be when they win. He acted so nonchalant about the whole thing, claiming that he didn't care they were even at the farmhouse, let alone being there to win. After all, he was the one who suggested that they hang out in the bedroom so as to not be bothered. Surely he didn't have ulterior motives.

"Guys," She spat out in frustration. Why couldn't they just be simple like girls?

_Splat!_

The splashing sound echoed up to her ears, the sole of her foot screaming out in protest at the sticky, viscous substance that was covering it like tar. Daring a glance down, she was met with the sight of red as it dripped off her toes to meet with the puddle that had already gathered on the floor. Shifting her eyes to follow the trail away from the pool, Lauren gasped loudly as her gaze fell upon the now lifeless body of Jessica Stanley.

"Oh my god…" She whispered, taking in the sight of her slashed up chest, her unblinking eyes.

"_Oh my god!_" She screamed out, this time in realization, her mind taking in the truth of the scene before her; albeit the tiny part of her mind that was still functioning refusing t believe it.

Jessica Stanley was dead.

_No,_ her mind corrected. _Not just dead. Murdered._

Without a second thought, Lauren turned on her heel and bolted from the bathroom, forgetting entirely the original reason she had been en route there, and that in the last five seconds, she had probably got at least ten different diseases, tetanus included.

_Mike,_ she thought, her heart racing as she ran past the playroom, the nursery. _I have to get to Mike. And then we have to get out of here. Fuck Brandon and her stupid necklace._

She started calling out in a panic before she reached the door, hoping he would take the hint and come out prepared.

"Mike! Mike, sweetie, we have to go! Now! Jessica's dead, and god only knows how many of the othe- _AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_"

Stopping cold just inside the doorway, she shrieked in terror. A tall red tapered candle, not her tiny tea light, lit up the room, giving way to the shadows to create macabre shapes only seen in nightmares. The walls were splattered with blood and- were those slices of flesh? Oh god, she couldn't bring herself to look anymore. She knew in her gut that Mike was dead. He had to be if the state of the vroom was any indication.

Or maybe he got away…

_Forget it,_ her mind reasoned.

Forcing herself to look to the bed, she threw her hand over her eyes as the vision of a very dead, very bloody Mike flashed bright against the inside of her eyelids. Dismembered and slashed beyond reorganization, he had joined Jessica in her morbidly sick grave.

Choking back the sob in her throat, Lauren burst from the room, making her way to the stairs. She didn't care fi she didn't have a vehicle, she would walk home. She just needed out.

As she rounded the corner by the study, she felt her body go numb as she ran into a hard chest.

"Lauren, what is it? What's wrong?"

Lauren pulled back, staring up into the face of the person she had just so unceremoniously ran into, only to gasp in horror.

"It's you… You stay away from me!" She stuttered out, constantly stumbling over her feet as she backed away.

"You're delirious. Look, let's wipe away those tears and talk about this. What's got you all riled up?" He asked, advancing slowly so as not to scare her.

"Stay the fuck away from me, you murdering psycho!"

Spinning around, she didn't make it two steps until a second figure stepped out of the shadows of the bedroom containing Mike's mangled and dismembered body.

_Boom!_

***

"Was that really necessary?" He asked, lowering Lauren's limp body to the ground.

"Of course it was! One more out of the way means that we are one step closer to ending this thing."

"Yes, but did you have to use the gun? Guaranteed someone head that, and they'll be coming up to investigate."

"You know that I don't like getting my hands dirty. Besides, it got the job done, didn't it? She was onto you."

"I could've convinced her otherwise."

"Yeah right."

"Whatever. The point is that she's dead, meaning that we've still got five left to go. We need to get our asses in gear."

"Roger that."

* * *

**A/N:** As promised, it is Halloween, and the chapter is up. Now, I know what your mind is screaming at you: go with the obvious. The answer is right in front of your face. Or is it? By now you all know that I like a good twist, and this could just be to mess with your heads. Or is it that I know you'd think this is just to mess with your heads but in reality, the obvious is in fact right? God I love my job. I love hearing all of your theories on who the killer can and cannot be, but just remember: anything is possible. And the more reviews I get, the more motivated I am to get the next chapter up quickly. Thanks for reading!


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